What Are You Smiling At?
by Calim1
Summary: Grissom, Sara, crime scene. Written for the CSIForeverOnline prompt challenge of 'GSR at a crime scene'. The prompts were: a length of rope, a chicken, a stun gun, deck of cards, fireworks, broken mirror, dead rat, cyanide


_Howdy! This one-shot is the entry for the 'GSR at a crime scene' challenge over at CSIForeverOnline. The criteria? 5000 words (this clocked in at 2954) or less and the following prompts: a length of rope, a chicken, a stun gun, deck of cards, fireworks, broken mirror, dead rat and cyanide._

_Happy reading!_

_Onward ~_

* * *

**CSI – What Are You Smiling At?**

by Susan Dietz (Calim 11)  
Rating: PG  
Category: GG / SS / HUMOR  
Summary: Grissom, Sara, crime scene. Written for the CSIForeverOnline prompt challenge of 'GSR at a crime scene'. The prompts were: a length of rope, a chicken, a stun gun, deck of cards, fireworks, broken mirror, dead rat, cyanide

_© May 2013_

_Feedback is appreciated_

_Disclaimer: The characters and general situations in this story are the property of CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer, however I reserve the rights to the specific details. It is not my intention to infringe upon their rights; this story is purely for the enjoyment of fans. Please do not redistribute in any form_

* * *

"What are you smiling at?" Sara Sidle asked of Gil Grissom as they slowly walked down the alley toward flashing lights and yellow crime tape.

"Oh, nothing," he off-handedly answered, his smile growing ever larger.

She leaned in close. "If you don't stop that everyone will know," she whispered.

Quickly losing the smile and pursing his lips, he glanced over at her. "I know, I know. It's just . . ." He shrugged, the smile slowly returning. "I can't seem to stop."

She grinned and ducked her head, stopping as he touched her arm, turning to look up into those blue, blue eyes.

"I didn't want to leave our warm bed to hang out at a scene in case you couldn't tell," he whispered.

"Oh, I could tell."

Her eyes sparkled and he blushed, ducking _his_ head this time and toeing at a bottle cap on the ground. "Good. I didn't want you to think that, well, that it was a onetime thing. I'm planning on more bed warming." Her laugh caught him by surprise and he frowned.

Quickly, Sara clamped a hand over her mouth and grabbed his arm. "No, no, Gil, I'm not laughing at you," she tried to explain. "It's your phrasing not the meaning. I swear."

"You sure?"

She nodded and made an 'X' with a finger over her heart. "I am 'cause I want more of that bed warming. Lots more."

A tug appeared at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah."

The tug became a fully fledged smile and he leaned in close.

"Sara? Was that you?" came Jim Brass's voice.

Grissom jerked back and Sara's phone magically appeared in her hand as she turned, plastering a smile on her face.

"Hey, Brass," she called, tapping her screen then dropping the phone into a vest pocket.

"I thought I heard you giggle," he said, his eyes twinkling.

Sara looked put out. "I don't giggle," she stated with a straight face. "I guffaw. There's a difference." She swore she heard Grissom chuckle then cough before turning around.

"So, what do you have?" he asked, all traces of their previous conversation gone. God, she wished she had that power.

Brass looked between the two, raised a brow then pulled a small notebook from a pocket. "DB, possibly 40 to 50 years of age, found outside Wendal's Good Stuff Eatery's backdoor. Fry cook, Benson Prong, says he's a regular homeless guy who does busy work for them and gets paid with food. Been in this alley for about three years now."

"Are you sure it wasn't Wendal's food that killed him?" Sara asked as they continued down the alley.

"What are you talking about?" he said. "Wendal's is the greasiest greasy spoon this side of The Luxor. Their whole chicken delight is a feast."

"You sure it's chicken?" Grissom asked with a grimace as he ducked under the crime tape and placed his kit on the ground next to the body.

Brass rubbed his stomach. "No complaints here."

"You could eat a Jeep," Grissom stated squinting at the cross-legged body laying on its back.

"If it was covered chocolate . . . perhaps."

"What's the COD?" Sara asked pulling on her gloves as she pulled out her camera.

"You're gonna love this," Brass began turning pages in his notebook. "Visually it looks like his neck was broken. The noose sorta gives that away," he added as Grissom poked the length of rope with a large pair of tweezers. "But he's also frothing at the mouth which, if I've got my spy movie deaths right, could be cyanide. Or there's also the fact that a large piece of glass is stuck in his neck which could've, could've mind you, come from that broken mirror propped up against the trash can. The one there with the smudged fingerprint," he pointed.

Grissom glanced at Brass. "Anything else?"

"Well, now that you mention it, there's an unexploded firework sticking out of his shirt right next to the remains of an exploded one, also in said shirt. And there's this," he began pointing at what looked like a gun sitting innocently on top of a mound of wilted lettuce. "Which looks like a gun but is actually a stun gun that's been recently fired which probably coincides with the burn mark on the back of his right hand. At least, I think that's a burn mark and not a raisin." He smiled at them and raised his brows. "Well, I'm going to go talk to the other homesteaders here in this alley and leave you to it."

With that he walked off, leaving the two in silent puzzlement.

One of Grissom's eyebrows rose. "Did you get the impression he enjoyed that?"

"Yep," was all Sara said, a small grin curving her lips. "So, we have multiple COD's. Wanna take bets on which form of horribleness did it?"

"Sara Sidle betting," Grissom tsked. "I never would've thought that of you."

"Oh, I don't know," she began. "I never thought your voice could get so deep and silky until I heard it up close and personal not that long ago." Peeking over, she completely enjoyed the way the tips of his ears turned red, his eyes never leaving the DB.

He cleared his throat. "Somebody's been reading his fortune," he said pointing to the tarot cards laid out on a piece of cardboard. "His final result was just that."

Sara leaned over to see The Falling Tower card. "Either way on this card doesn't look good."

"Those meanings are suggestive," Grissom began. "The diviner of the cards permits their own conscious or subconscious thought processes to add expanded meanings to each card."

"Show off," she grinned. "Still a 'complete and sudden change', 'unexpected events', 'undoing'," she read. "Seems he was completely undone by multiple items."

"I was undone most recently and enjoyed it immensely."

Her eyes darted toward him and were caught in those intense blue eyes, darker than normal, reminding her of how he'd looked at her just before he'd . . .

"So, figure it out yet?" Brass tossed out as he slinked toward them, delighting in startling them both. Grissom was the first to recover.

"He either pissed off a bunch of people or had a weird sense of the absurd," he answered.

"Or he couldn't make up his mind which way to go," Sara added with a shrug.

"And here I thought the two of you would be able to ascertain COD lickety split." He sighed. "I've lost my faith in you guys."

Grissom smirked. "Sorry but no guessing with this one. What did you find?"

"Not much," Brass answered looking once again at his mini notebook. "Sheila, she's in charge around here, told me he just showed up one day and asked if he could stake a claim. Since he was nice she let him stay. Potsy, a few trash cans down, said he would join them for poker night. Pretty good with the cards. Andy told me he had a rat for a pet. Oh, I forgot about the rat. It's that one, I believe," he pointed.

"The one with the collar, I presume?" Grissom asked.

Brass nodded. "It should say Cagney on it."

"Cagney?" Sara said.

"I would guess James Cagney," Grissom began watching confusion take over her face.

"Don't tell me you've never heard of Jimmy Cagney?" Brass stated, astonishment in his voice and on his face, his hand covering his heart.

"Of course she's heard of Jimmy Cagney," Grissom said with a shake of the head then peered up at her. "You have haven't you?"

"Yes, I've heard of Jimmy Cagney," she hastily said with a roll of her eyes.

Grissom sighed with relief. "Well, he was always quoted as saying 'you dirty rat' when, in fact, the line was 'come out and take it, you dirty, yellow-bellied rat, or I'll give it to you through the door'." Sara's brows rose slowly at his Cagney impersonation.

"You are a font of knowledge," Brass stated.

"Oh, I know many things," came back at him even though Grissom's eyes were on Sara.

Brass couldn't help but notice a slight blush, his attention drawn to running footsteps coming their way. "David's here," he announced.

"Sorry I'm late," David Philips announced as he approached. "Had to clean up three bodies over off of Bonanza. They were stuffed in a break in the cement under an overpass and we couldn't get them out. They were glued in."

"Don't tell him stuff like that, David," Brass stated with a wave of his finger. "You'll get him all excited."

Grissom frowned. "This case is interesting enough, thank you," he answered standing back for David to do his stuff. "What kind of glue?"

"See I told you." Brass's tone was exaggerated as he slapped his leg.

"If the glue was Caulobacter crescentous then it would be something to get EXTREMELY excited about since it's never been mass produced and distributed to the public," he explained.

"Warrick was taking it back to the lab."

"I'll have to call him," Grissom whispered to himself as he pulled out his phone.

"Remember," Brass began, "you have a DB with six possible COD's right under your nose.

Grissom stopped, glanced at the body then at David who shrugged and put his phone away. "Fine."

"Liver temp suggests he's been dead 8 to 10 hours. Here's his wallet," David said handing it off to Sara.

"A homeless guy with a wallet," Sara said. "That's new."

"Maybe he recently lost his job and his house and had to take to the streets," David suggested as he worked.

"Or he's not a he?" Grissom added glancing at the driver's license then toward Brass.

"Come again?"

"Does this look like Sylvia Radnick?" he asked holding the license close to the DB's face.

Brass shrugged. "I don't know. Clean him up, put a little mascara on. It could be." Grissom chuckled and handed the wallet back to Sara.

"Okay, I'm done," David announced.

"Thank you, David," Grissom said kneeling next to the body.

Brass tapped his chin. "Hmm. A guy with a woman's license, a pet rat, a card player who obviously pissed off somebody or a bunch of somebody's to make sure he was dead in every way possible. This sooo beats out glue."

"You're a real comedian," Grissom said with a scowl.

"I'm here all week."

"Doc Robbins will love this," David admitted as he moved to his feet. "I'll get the gurney."

"Well, I'm off to talk to some of these other businesses around here," Brass informed them.

"We'll be here," Sara said as Brass left them. "What was that 'I know many things' comment?"

"I do."

"I know. But I blushed. Brass saw me."

He looked embarrassed. "It just came out. Sorry."

"For as good a poker player as you are, your poker face ain't workin' tonight."

"I can't help it. I keep flashing back on what we were doing earlier and I want to do it again. Now. And I can't." He clenched his jaw. "It's very frustrating."

"Welcome to my world, Buster Brown. I've been dealing with this for years so get a grip."

"I'm sorry. It's hard not . . ." His voice fizzled out and he looked down at the DB trying not to listen to Sara snort.

"That's a BIG admission," she added between giggles.

He began to smile. "Oh, you're gonna get it when we get home."

"I can't wait," she managed as her giggles got louder and so did his smile.

"You're a bad, bad influence on me," he said with a shake of the head.

"Good. I plan on doing some bad, bad things to you later."

"God, stop," he pleaded as she stood.

"I'll just be over here," she said in a sultry voice.

He rubbed at his face. "Think about the life cycle of a dung beetle."

"Coming?"

Christ! So much for the dung beetle.

"Can't exactly stand up right now."

"Your back?" she asked with a smile as he glared at her. Laughing, she walked down the alley.

He had no idea how he was going to get through this shift. Everything was so new, vibrating on a different level that threw off his concentration. A case like this would've had him buried deep in the . . .

_Stop already!_

. . . would've had him in serious thought, yeah, serious thought about the evidence within seconds but he couldn't push away her touch, her sighs, how it felt to give in to all the emotions he'd tied up and hidden away. He was like a new foal standing for the first time - wobbly, scared and amazed all at once.

"All right, Gil," came Brass's quiet voice behind him making him jump. "Spill."

Grissom didn't turn knowing he'd been caught staring off into nothing. He was well and truly trapped. "You sound like Catherine."

Brass chuckled. "I've just always wanted to say that." Grissom shook his head. "There's no need to admit anything, Gil, 'cause I already figured it out." He leaned in close. "And your secret's safe with me," he whispered. "Just try to keep that lovelorn look off your face while you're at work or it won't be a secret for long." He clasped Grissom's shoulder.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it. I'm happy for you. I'm jealous, actually, but I'm glad you finally saw the light. I'm pretty sure Catherine will be the next one to find out though." Grissom glanced up. "You know she's got that radar thing going."

"Tell me about it," he sighed.

"So, stop thinking about it and get to work."

"Easier said than done."

Brass grinned and started back down the alley, waving at Sara as he passed. She hurried back to Grissom, kneeling next to him.

"What was that hush-hush stuff about?" she asked.

"Brass knows." She opened her mouth to say something. "I know. It's my fault. I just . . . I can't stop thinking about you and it's driving me to distraction."

"I'm sorry." She quickly stood. "Maybe I should head back, send Nick out here."

He reached out and tugged on her pant leg until she moved back down. "No, no, I don't want you to go. I've never . . . You made me feel more than I've ever let myself feel and I . . ." He shook his head.

"This is new for me, too, you know."

"Yeah, but people are used to you mooning over me not vice versa."

She grinned. "Very true."

"How did you make it through the day?"

"I took a lot of showers," she said, smiling at his look. "I'm kidding."

"Seriously, what did you do?"

"I just dealt with it." He didn't believe her. "Gil, you have to understand that I never thought this was going to happen and had given up so it's been a lot easier of late to ignore my feelings. But before, when I still had hope, it was horrendous. I'll let you know that you were a featured player in my dreams."

"Yeah?"

"Every night and, sometimes, during the day especially when it took a long time to get to a scene. I had to partition it off when we worked together or else I wouldn't've gotten anything done."

"You're a very good actress." He frowned. "Or I'm incredibly dense."

"Inattentional blindness," she stated.

He looked at her oddly for a moment then nodded. "Ah, a failure to notice unexpected stimulus that's in one's field of vision when other attention demanding tasks are being performed."

"Exactly. The only time we were together was at work and you were always immersed in the latest conundrum of whodunit. I should've jumped on you the minute you walked out the door."

He shook his head. "It wouldn't've changed a thing. My head is always filled with conundrums." He stared at her then looked down at the body. "My head was also filled with ways to ignore what I was feeling." He cast a glance at her. "If you'd jumped me I would've given in then regretted it in the morning."

Her face fell and he quickly reached out to take her hand.

"I would've regretted _how _it happened not _that_ it happened. I . . . I didn't have to worry about what my body wanted just my brain. Once I'd figured things out I was on my way, just hoping you were still there to meet me." He smiled at her. "Thank you for meeting me, Ms. Sidle."

She smiled. "I'll always meet you, Dr. Grissom, anytime, anywhere."

"See when you talk like that, I can't get up."

She laughed then and he smiled. "Then why don't you stay with our DB and I'll work the alley."

"Be careful."

"Always."

He watched her walk away, taking photos, digging into trash and chastised himself for taking so long to decide.

"Well, I'm here now so enjoy the ride," he whispered to himself bending back over the body, looking up at the sound of a gurney coming his way fast.

"Doc Robbins wants to talk to you!" David called out as he handed him his phone. He could hear his name being shouted through the phone.

"Yeah, Al?"

"How many COD's does he have? You know I had that one last month with four. David said six. Is that right?"

"Yeah, there appear to be at least six."

"You're shittin' me?"

"Nope."

"Well, don't leave me in suspense man. List them off."

Grissom laughed then and figured he couldn't tell him to wait until later. "Well, here's what I see. There's a noose around his neck, some fireworks in his shirt and . . ."

* * *

_Caulobacter crescentous - this a bacteria widely distributed in fresh water lakes and streams that affixes itself with nature's strongest 'glue' to stay in place. Hypothetically, the glue could be mass produced and used to coat surfaces for medical and engineering purposes.  
_

* * *

_Well, there you go. Learn something new everyday. I hope you enjoy this bit of fun. :-D_


End file.
